THE GLORY OF THE YEAR.
When Spring came softly breathing o'er the land,
With warmer sunshine and sweet April shower;
Bidding the silken willow leaves expand;
Calling to hill and meadow, bee and flower,
Bright with new life and beauty; on light wing
Bringing the birds again to love and sing;
And waking in the heart its joy amain,
With old fond hopes and memories in its train;
Childishly glad mid universal cheer,
How oft we sang the half-forgotten strain:
"Now we behold the glory of the year!"
When Summer by her fervid breezes fanned,
With footstep free and proud in restless power,
With plump, round cheek to ruddy beauty tanned,
In blooming loveliness came to her bower,
Her golden tresses loosely wandering
In wild luxuriance,—then pretty Spring
Seemed but a playful sister, pettish, vain.
How well we loved the passionate Summer's reign!
How day by day our empress grew more dear!
"Beyond," we asked, "what fairer can remain?
Now we behold the glory of the year!"
But when grave Autumn's ever bounteous hand
Poured round our feet the riches of her dower:
The pulpy fruit, the nut's sweet ripened gland,
The largess free to gleaner and to plower,
And all the Summer sought in vain to bring;
When stood the hills in glorious garmenting;
Shadowed by low-hung skies of sober grain,
No more could our ennobled thoughts sustain
Regretful memory of Summer sere,—
"What of the past!" we cried in quick disdain;
"Now we behold the glory of the year!"
Then before mighty Winter, stern and grand,
We saw defenceless Autumn shivering, cower,
Changed to Duessa by his potent wand,
Shorn of her loveliness, in Fortune's lower
Naked for Winter's scourge to smite and sting.
How godlike came the world's new sceptered King!
He fettered fast her torrents with his chain,
Bound with his manacles the moaning main,
Yea, wrought his will with all things far and near.
"At last," we said, "what more can Time attain?
Now we behold the glory of the year!"
Neglected Spring, despised, insulted, banned!
Poor weakling! came again one April hour,
The tyrant struck his tent at her command;
She laughed,—down tumbling fell his frosty tower;
At one light finger-touch his captives fling
Their shackles off and make the valleys ring
With praises to the conqueror of pain.
All the lost lives that languishing have lain,
Leaves, grasses, buds, and birds again appear,
"O now!" we cried again and yet again,
"Now we behold the glory of the year!"
Prince, while Spring sports with sunbeam, flower, and rain,—
While wanton Summer riots on the plain,—
'Neath Autumn's calm, or Winter's frown severe,
Change only clearer chants the old refrain,
"Now we behold the glory of the year!"
Ernest Whitney.
[The Kyrielle, Pantoum, and Rondeau Redouble.]
Qui voudra sçavoir la pratique
De cette rime juridique,
Je dis que bien mise en effet
La Kyrielle ainsi se fait.
De plante de sillabes huit
Usez en donc si bien vous duit;
Pour faire le couplet parfait
La Kirielle ainsi si fait.
—Theodore de Banville.